Arriving at Mancha Kiri....

11/9~ It's the weekend. Becca & I have had the second half of the week to experience what's in store for us here. Mancha Kiri, in all it's myriad of spellings (it's spelled one way on the Municipal Building front wall, spelled another way at the Police Station, different than at the apartment building we are staying at & different yet at the bus station), is a small village of shop keepers & rice farmers. It has a main thorough fare with three smaller streets, called sois, bisecting it; one we live on, one that the high school we teach at is on, & no traffic lights. It is where everyone knows each other; where water buffalo can be seen herded down a street, causing cars to go around them, & their caretaker comes up behind them with either a stick to goad them on or a 5 gallon plastic bucket to catch their droppings before they hit the road. A place that is surrounded by water & rice paddies. It's in a vast valley, very green & lush & whenever I am in such a place it is easy to think I'm in Hawaii, but it's the water here that prevents that comparison. The north is a virtual swamp & the people have learned to create raised earthen walkways in cultivating it.
But it is the students we have come here for. They are quiet & shy mostly with a bubbly curious side. They all know some shard of Engrish & they stumble on some bit of pronunciation & that is why the land of smiles sequesters native English speakers. But it is not a heavenly marriage; farongs, as foreigners are called, aren't really that welcomed in the land of highly suspicious, superstitious working people beyond the convenience that they provide & their money. It is not to say that there are no genuine smiles & generosity on those lively brown faces, but there are many levels beyond that smile & we will never know how weighty the thoughts are that occupy those that we greet. -TLC.